


Slow Dancing To A Silhouette

by feathers_and_cigarettes



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: #givefrankthed2K20, Blind Character, Blindfolds, Explicit Sexual Content, Fratt - Freeform, Goddammit Frank, M/M, Matt Murdock's a cocky shit, Really this is nothing but filth, Smut, Soft Frank Castle, Who Put These Feels In My Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22236499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feathers_and_cigarettes/pseuds/feathers_and_cigarettes
Summary: He’s not entirely sure why he agreed to this, aside from being completely unable to say no to anything Matt requests when he’s naked. The man’s not just persuasive in the courtroom, as Frank’s finding out the hard way.In which Frank agrees to let Matt blindfold him and learns it's okay to let go sometimes.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock
Comments: 14
Kudos: 158





	Slow Dancing To A Silhouette

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sevdrag (seventhe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhe/gifts).



> For my Murder Wife, [Sevdrag](http://sevdrag.tumblr.com), for our Blitz Round of commissions. Prompt: Fratt, blindfolds. Title is from "Hellfire" by Barns Courtney, which is a fucking Fratt song if I ever heard one.

Frank sucks in a breath as the silk slides across his face and the world goes dark.

He’s not entirely sure why he agreed to this, aside from being completely unable to say no to anything Matt requests when he’s naked. The man’s not just persuasive in the courtroom, as Frank’s finding out the hard way.

“Easy, Frank, I’m right here,” Matt’s voice murmurs from just in front of his face, one hand running through Frank’s hair soothingly. “Deep breaths; you’ll adjust.”

Frank hisses a forced laugh through his teeth, cursing his rapidly beating heart for betraying him. “Easy for you to say,” he mutters, even his voice sounding odd to his own ears with the loss of his sight. Everything is sharper as Frank’s brain struggles to process everything he’d usually rely on his sight for.

Matt laughs and keeps up the light touch, his nails scratching gently at Frank’s scalp. “Stop trying to see through the cloth, you’re only going to give yourself a headache and that’s not the point of this,” he says. “Focus on what you can feel: my hand in your hair, the sheets against your back.” Warmth gusts over Frank’s ear and he shivers despite himself. “My breath against your skin. Focus on my voice; listen for changes in my breathing.”

The weight on the bed next to Frank shifts and suddenly he’s aware of the heat of another body near his own – close, but not touching. He relaxes a fraction, unclenches his fists and rolls onto his side. The sheets are soft against his bare skin in stark contrast to his plain cotton boxer briefs, which rub and chafe against his upper thigh and groin. He used to make fun of Red for his obsession with the most expensive of silk sheets, but he’s grateful for them and their stupidly high thread count now.

“Do you trust me?”

Frank’s hand slides across the bed – only a few inches but it feels like a few feet and the fact that he can’t judge distance anymore sends him back into high alert, curling defensively into himself. Finally, he makes contact with skin, frowning as he brushes his fingertips over warm flesh and soft body hair and realizes he has no idea what part of Matt he’s actually touching.

“Frank,” Matt says, his voice maddeningly calm. “I’m going to touch your hand, okay?”

Nodding, Frank’s brow furrows under the blindfold. Forearm? No, not forearm, far too thick to be Matt’s forearm; it has to be his calf. He moves his fingertips up, finding Matt’s knee as a hand brushes over the back of his own.

Matt winds his fingers through Frank’s, squeezing gently before pressing Frank’s palm down, guiding his hand up to his thigh. “Use your whole hand. Fingertips are good for small details: figuring out expressions or tracing scars.” He moves Frank’s fingertips over a long scar on his outer thigh. “Your palm can give you a lot of information though. You can feel the whole muscle group, figure out where I’m going next.”

The thick muscle under Frank’s palm bunches as Matt shifts on the bed and he immediately rolls over onto his back once more, aiming his face where he thinks Matt’s might be.

“Do you trust me?” Matt asks again, his breath puffing over Frank’s lips, the bed dipping with what has to be Matt’s hand by the pillow.

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation in his voice. Matt’s one of the few people he _does_ trust, and the only one he trusts completely. He’s uncomfortable being this vulnerable, feeling totally exposed even though Matt’s the one who’s currently naked, but he wants to prove to Matt that he’s capable of something of this magnitude.

“Kiss me,” Matt replies, his voice pitched low with arousal.

Frank feels a little awkward as he leans up and finds nothing but air. He doesn’t want to move too quickly and smash his head against Matt’s – he can’t think of a faster way to kill the mood than double concussions – and he can’t quite judge how far away Matt is. He growls in frustration, finds Matt’s chin, and flops back onto the bed. “This is fuckin’ stupid, Red. I don’t have your superhero shit so this ain’t gonna be the same.”

The hand is back in his hair, rubbing soothingly at his temple. “You don’t need enhanced senses, Frank, you just need to pay attention to everything else around you. Touch me. Without sight, your hands become your eyes, so use them. You’re not going to hurt me. You’re safe with me and I’m probably the last person who can judge you for being unnerved without your sight.”

Taking a deep breath, Frank slides his palm up Matt’s thigh, over the bare hip, and up his torso. He maps out ribs and lateral muscles, his hand catching on a nipple and making Matt suck in a sharp breath. It’s a good noise and Frank latches onto that, listening intently for that quick inhale as he brings his other hand up, finding Matt’s chest without any fumbling and toys with the other nipple.

Matt lets out a breathy moan, his body shuddering under Frank’s hands, his skin warm and soft. “There you go, Frank,” he says, his voice wavering slightly as Frank’s fingertips find the scars just below his collarbone.

Stubble rasps under Frank’s fingers as he moves up Matt’s neck to cup his jaw, his hand framing Matt’s face and thumb rubbing over his cheek. This, at least, is much more familiar; God knows how many times Frank’s traced Matt’s face with his hands while kissing him or had his eyes closed. He tugs Matt down and sinks his other hand into messy hair, a low groan escaping his throat as he finally manages to capture Matt’s lips with his own.

The kiss isn’t anything Frank hasn’t done before, the loss of his vision completely irrelevant to making out with Matt, but it’s _different_ this time. Maybe because he can’t just open his eyes and see Matt’s beautiful face or maybe because he’s focusing on his other senses, but Matt is practically _radiating_ heat.

He licks into Matt’s mouth, chasing that subtle taste of the man beyond the minty toothpaste and the wine they’d shared at dinner. The little noises Matt makes are more obvious now and Frank can’t get enough of them, each needy little whine like music to Frank’s ears. He pulls Matt on top of him, shifting his legs apart so Matt can lay between them.

Matt grunts into Frank’s mouth as his bare skin settles over Frank’s sweatpants. He sinks his teeth into Frank’s lower lip and pushes impatiently at Frank’s waistband. “Off,” he orders, his voice a low growl into Frank’s mouth.

Frank’s dick is at least getting more with the program now that he can feel Matt’s comforting weight on top of him. He rolls his hips up, trying to get some friction, and Matt shifts back just enough at the brush of the fabric against him.

Fuck. Enhanced senses, right. Matt’s complained about the rough fabric of Frank’s sweatpants against his bare skin before and judging from what Frank could feel against his thigh, Matt’s more than a little turned on. He sits up a little warily, trailing his lips down Matt’s throat as both an acquiescence and a guide, and shoves his sweatpants down, wincing a little as his boxer briefs catch on the head of his thickening cock.

A hand presses into Frank’s chest and shoves him back down into the mattress. The warmth of Matt’s body is removed for a moment and Frank shivers a little, instantly missing the contact. His pants and boxer briefs are quickly divested of and then he’s _warm_ again as Matt covers Frank’s body with his own.

Teeth flash against Frank’s neck and it feels like Matt’s hands are everywhere, stroking and running over his chest and hips, ghosting near his groin but never touching. Frank growls out his frustration and rocks his hips up against Matt’s, seeking that heat and friction as he pants into Matt’s hair. He remembers to keep contact with his palms, his hands moving more on autopilot now that they’re both horizontal, and he drags his legs along Matt’s, needing that contact everywhere.

“Doing so well, Frank,” Matt hums, dragging his mouth from Frank’s neck to his jaw, over to his ear and catching the lobe in his teeth. His hands leave trails of fire down Frank’s chest, palms holding his hips still against the bed. “I want you to just feel, okay? Block everything else out but me; can you do that?”

It’s not an easy task. No matter how much he enjoys Matt’s company, there’s always a part of him that’s on alert, ingrained from years in the Marines. Letting that go is nerve-wracking and it goes against everything Frank is. It’s what started this whole blindfold experiment and despite thoroughly enjoying himself now, Frank’s not sure he can completely let go like that.

Long fingers wrap around his cock, ripping a groan from Frank’s throat. He can feel Matt smile against his ear and he can picture it in his mind, that slow devil-may-care grin that spreads across Matt’s whole face, the arrogant asshole. His fingers scrabble along Matt’s back, probably leaving welts in their wake, but Frank can’t bring himself to care. Wouldn’t be the first time and won’t be the last.

“Let go,” Matt’s voice rumbles through Frank’s ears and he can feel it roll across his nerves and down his spine.

“Shit,” Frank hisses, turning his head so he can bite at Matt’s jaw. He lets his hands wander lower, palming Matt’s ass and squeezing in the hopes of getting him to make those sinful, needy noises again.

Matt moans into Frank’s mouth and rocks back into his hands, encouraging Frank to grope more, to pull him closer. His pace on Frank’s cock remains steady and maddeningly light, the pressure and heat of his hand driving Frank insane as he struggles to get _more._

“Red,” Frank pants, one hand leaving Matt’s ass to trail up and fist in his hair. “ _Matt_ , please.” He’s begging and he’s embarrassed by it, but he needs Matt to help him let go. He can’t do it on his own.

Something snaps to Frank’s left and it nearly kicks him into self-defense, his arm wrapping around Matt’s waist and preparing to roll over on top of him. Gusts of warm air puff against his lips and something cold and oddly shaped rubs against his bicep. Plastic?

Matt murmurs soft nonsense and takes Frank’s hand, the object pressing into his palm as Matt closes his fingers around it. A tube, Frank realizes with relief, his heart still pounding. The cap’s popped open and slippery liquid drips onto his fingers. Lube. Frank nearly lost his shit over lube.

“You still with me?” Matt asks, no judgement in his voice, his lips brushing over Frank’s cheeks and nose just under the blindfold.

“Yeah,” Frank says, exhaling unsteadily and resting his forehead against Matt’s to ground himself again. “Yeah, I’m good.”

The slow rhythm starts on his cock again, coaxing him back to full hardness. Matt kisses him again, deep and hot, and Frank feels himself sinking back into the bed again, drowning in the taste and scent and feel of Matt surrounding him.

Matt makes a soft noise of approval and shifts one of Frank’s legs around his waist to angle his hips up. His hands leave Frank for a second and he takes the tube as he sits up, murmuring soft words of praise and encouragement. The crinkle of the condom wrapper cuts through the air, swallowed up by Frank’s hiss of discomfort as Matt breaches him with a cold finger.

“We’re getting that fancy warming shit next time,” Frank grunts, automatically twisting his hips down onto Matt’s finger, wanting more. “C’mon, Red.”

“Same stuff as we always use,” Matt says with a laugh, pausing to add a second finger and working them in and out of Frank.

Frank bites back a whine as the fingers disappear and the condom wrapper rustles. He’s writhing a little on the bed, his hands clenching open and closed on the sheets – when the fuck did he get this needy? He feels overheated and he reaches out for Matt, finding the upper part of his bicep.

The head of Matt’s cock rubs at his entrance and he feels impossibly huge, far bigger than Frank remembers. “Breathe in,” Matt’s voice rumbles above him, the muscles of his arm tensing under Frank’s fingers as Frank struggles to comply. “There you go, good; match my breathing.”

Matt’s chest rises and falls steadily and Frank focuses on the soft sounds, forcing himself to slow his breathing. The pressure is still there, but it doesn’t feel as overwhelming.

“Good job, Frank, exhale.”

Frank breathes out and Matt pushes in agonizingly slow, the bed dipping as Matt braces his arms on either side of Frank’s ribcage. They’ve done this before, and it always takes Frank a moment or two to adjust, but Matt’s never felt like this before, thick and hot and Frank can _feel_ him twitch inside him as he sheathes himself fully. It’s overwhelming and Frank gasps and blinks rapidly behind his blindfold, leg automatically tightening around Matt’s waist as the other one falls open further.

Harsh breaths pant into Frank’s ear, the first sign that Matt’s just as affected by this as Frank is. He holds still for a minute, buried to the hilt within Frank, his voice pitching rough praise into Frank’s skin.

He’s _drowning_ in Matt in a way he’s never felt before. All he can hear is the slap of skin on skin, their combined moans and panting, Matt’s rich praise; it all swims around in his head like a symphony, the sweetest Frank’s ever heard. He can smell lingering traces of Matt’s soap, the traces of wine on his breath, and something underneath it all that’s clean and masculine and _Matt_ , something he’s never really noticed.

Matt feels larger in his arms, an endless expanse of hot flesh and hard muscle that coils and releases with every thrust of his cock into Frank’s body. They’re both dripping with sweat, clawing at each other’s bodies, biting and licking and sucking red marks into each other’s skin and the intensity of it almost scares Frank a little bit. They’ve had rough sex, lazy sex, God knew how many positions, but this… this is new.

“That’s it, Frank. Tell me what you feel,” Matt growls into Frank’s throat, dragging his tongue over the spot he’s just bitten.

Too many emotions all at once. Frank shakes his head, mouth falling open in a silent gasp as Matt shifts ever so slightly, dragging his cock along Frank’s prostate. He pulls Matt impossibly closer and tries to kiss him, keening in frustration as Matt pulls his head back just far enough.

“Use your words, Frank.”

There are no words. Frank’s a secret lover of the classic poets, of Keats and Bronte and Coleridge, but none of their words can hold a candle to everything roiling through Frank’s very soul. His fingers dig into Matt’s shoulders, rolling his hips as Matt slows his frenetic pace to a gentle rocking.

“Matt… please, I _can’t_ ,” he manages to bite out, absolutely wrecked.

“Three things, Frank. Tell me three things you can feel.”

Frank swears, taking several short, heavy breaths. “You,” he gasps. “All I feel is you.”

Another sharp thrust sends Frank reeling and crying out. “Specifics. What about me can you feel?” Matt asks, his voice tight, like he’s physically holding himself back from fucking Frank into next week.

_Fuck_. Frank tries to concentrate, tries to ignore his neglected dick dripping onto his stomach, tries to force down things he hasn’t felt since _that_ night changed him forever. “You’re close,” he says after a moment, feeling Matt twitch inside in him in response. “Your breathing’s changed; you’re harder, _fuck_ , why do you feel so goddamned big?” He trails his hands, palms first, down Matt’s arms and feels the trembling of the muscles there. “You’re trying not to come.”

The words are easier now that the dam’s broken. Frank wraps his arm around Matt’s neck and tugs him close, cheek to cheek, and settles his other hand at Matt’s hip, feeling the fluttering of his abs as he makes his way down. “You’re smiling, that fuckin’ asshole smile you get when you think you’ve won. You’re sweaty, I think more than you usually are; I can smell it in your hair, I can taste it,” he pauses to lick a stripe just behind Matt’s ear, nosing into his hair. “God, you smell so fuckin’ good right now.”

Matt practically vibrates in response, his entire body shuddering, muscles bunching as he bucks erratically for a second before he manages to get himself back under control. He leans in with a low, animalistic sound and devours Frank’s mouth, one hand wrapping around Frank’s cock like a brand, jerking him in counterpoint to his frenzied thrusting.

“C’mon, Frank,” Matt groans, his voice as gravelly as Frank’s own, and Frank’s not sure if that’s what tips him over the edge, but all of a sudden he’s coming in hot pulses over his torso and Matt’s hand, pleasure cresting over him like a wave and tears pricking at the corners of his eyes under the blindfold.

Matt’s not far behind, moaning Frank’s name with reverence, his breath hitching as he holds Frank close. His hips still, flush against Frank’s sweat-drenched thighs, and he rides out his orgasm with small gasps and whimpers.

They collapse in a heap together, Matt’s weight warm and comforting on top of Frank as he struggles to swim through the mental haze of his orgasm. He runs his hand through Matt’s damp hair and presses kisses to every bit of skin he can reach without too much effort.

Enhanced senses means Matt gets overstimulated too fast for any lingering afterglow though, and eventually he sits up with a groan, sliding out of Frank’s spent body.

Frank can hear water sloshing around in a bowl and drops hitting the wood of the bedside table and he slurs a response to Matt’s warning about the cloth being cold without really processing it. He hisses as the cool washcloth touches his overheated flesh, swiping quickly and efficiently down his abdomen and groin to his ass.

“Sorry, that’s the worst part,” Matt apologizes, grunting as he cleans himself off. The cloth is dropped back into the bowl and Frank’s warm again as Matt curls against him. “I’m going to take the blindfold off. Open your eyes a little bit at a time; the lights are off, but it’ll probably still be an adjustment.”

“Mmkay,” Frank mumbles, too tired and fuzzy to argue.

Matt’s deft fingers work at the tie, drawing the silk gently over Frank’s head and over his cheek teasingly. “Tell me when you can see.”

Frank opens his eyes slowly, grinning like an idiot when Matt’s face came into focus. He reaches up and cups Matt’s cheek, slowly rubbing his thumb just below Matt’s unfocused eye until Matt turns to catch it lightly in his teeth.

“Uglier than I remember,” Frank teases, wanting to sit up and kiss Matt but his entire body feels boneless, heavy and sated.

The laugh that bubbles out of Matt’s chest is deep and rich and Frank’s heart twists just a little bit. He settles against Frank, one hand absently tracing scars along Frank’s abdomen and the other propping his head up. “Not bad for the blind leading the blind, huh?” he asks, the corner of his lips quirking in a smile.

Frank groans and pushes at Matt’s face. “How long’ve you been waiting to use that?”

“Since breakfast; it’s been really tough to hold back.”

“You’re a fuckin’ dumbass, Red,” Frank says without any real rancor, curling back into Matt’s space automatically. The man has a gravitational pull and Frank’s just as helpless to stop it as he would be to stop the earth from turning. He tilts Matt’s chin up for a kiss, nipping at the swollen lower lip. “Don’t know why I put up with you.”

Matt grins against Frank’s lips and rolls his hips, his cock giving a half-hearted twitch against Frank’s thigh. “I can think of at least one reason,” he purrs, resting a hand on the back of Frank’s neck. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“If I say yes, are you gonna gloat about it for a week?”

“Mmm, no, but I may blindfold you again if you admit you liked it and ask me nicely.”

Frank’s heartbeat gives him away and he knows it. The experience had been… heady, to say the least. Trusting someone like that goes against everything Frank’s become, but it’s stirred something he’s thought long dead and the thought of poking at it is both frightening and intensely appealing.

He rolls into Matt, his muscles protesting, and licks into his mouth, trying to show his enthusiastic approval. He’s always been more of a man of action; words have never been his strong point.

Kissing Matt until his lungs burn in his chest though, that’s something that comes easily. He grabs the silk cloth from the bedside table and presses it into Matt’s hands, the soft fabric sliding through his fingers. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he rumbles. “Maybe if I get down on my knees.”

Matt’s nostrils flare just slightly and his jaw sets, the only outward sign Frank’s scored a hit. He tilts his head a fraction and drapes the cloth around Frank’s neck. “I’m holding you to that,” he replies smoothly.

Closing his eyes, Frank lets Matt drag him close for more kissing, content to surrender to the dark for at least a little bit longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell about Fratt and other assorted Marvel with me on [tumblr!](http://feathers-and-cigarettes.tumblr.com)


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